


Wanderer

by BlueMonkey



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-12
Updated: 2013-01-12
Packaged: 2017-11-25 05:44:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/635710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueMonkey/pseuds/BlueMonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin has been away from the Blue Mountains and his nephews for five years when they meet again at Bag End to begin their quest. While Fíli is still the same, something seems to have changed about Kíli.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wanderer

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a full two years since I wrote anything decent. But then the Hobbit happened, and along with it a whole infestation of muses. Lo and behold, the result.

It had to be this door. The rune glowed barely through the ridges in which it stood scratched, already fading, but there was no doubt about it as he stood looking at the symbol in the cast of his shadow. He had viewed upon many a similar door in the past hour - Galdalf's directions had been vague at best - and this just had to be the one. A good thing too. Thorin was tired after the long search for the door and the much longer journey and meeting that had preceded it.

Besides, he reasoned with himself, the joyful noise that could faintly be heard inside and that stilled at his knock couldn't be anything else than dwarven by nature.

Thorin was a wanderer. It wasn't what he thought of himself or had hoped to be, but it was that which the coming of the cursed dragon many years ago had made of him. Without Erebor, he had been without purpose for a very long time. Thorin had been looking for so long that sometimes, he forgot what he was really chasing after. Erebor? Or was he simply looking for somewhere he could belong? He was a prince without a kingdom, an heir to a land beyond his reach. There was little for him left than chasing dreams of splendour and a lost dwarven pride. That would end after tonight. The threshold of the hobbit's hole was in that aspect to Thorin almost metaphorical, he considered wryly. Cross it, and the long wait would be over.

As he looked up in his contemplation, he found a pair of eyes fixed peeved but curiously on him. A strange creature, he thought. Slight of build. Tiny even for a dwarf's standards. And obviously annoyed, too. That could mean only one thing to Thorin - everyone else was already there. Good. He crossed the opening, brushed past him as he assumed the others had before him, and let his eyes go over the company that was to be his for the journey to come.

There was Gandalf, as always the most prominent person if only for his sheer height, who gave him a smile and a nod. Then his good friends who were less reserved in showing their happiness for his arrival. The strange hobbit standing behind him - Thorin was more aware of him standing there because he knew that the hobbit had made his presence more obvious. 

And there sat his dear nephews. As the last years the signs of a possible return to the Lonely Mountain had started showing, Thorin had been away from Ered Luin and thus his nephews more often than not. The longest period, now ended at the rap of his knuckles on the circular door with the rune, had spanned five years. Thorin had been looking forward to seeing his nephews most of all, if he was honest with himself. When he looked at them, the feeling seemed to be mutual. There was Fíli, who had not changed a bit, Thorin thought. He still wore the same kind of braids he had always been fond of, still wore the same jewellery - though there seemed to be new pieces to his collection, when he thought about it - and still looked the same. Fíli seemed to be brimming with questions and things to talk about with him. He would have to take the boy apart for catching up some time. 

If Thorin were to not make the end of the journey, this was the dwarf who would follow in his steps. He was proud of him already.

Kíli on the other hand wasn't anything like how Thorin had left them five years ago. Sure, he still braided his hair poorly, and he still had little facial hair. It just wouldn't grow on his chin, it seemed, because he hadn't been the only one stressing the young dwarven man to let it grow, and Kíli had tried so hard in the past. His smile was still cheerful and still had the power to effortlessly lift the mood for everyone who'd look on him. But there was something else now, something that hadn't been there before. Thorin's eyes lingered a little longer on him, trying to figure out what it was. Kíli just held his grin and met his gaze, although eventually he did falter and started nervously glancing left and right, fidgeting in his chair.

"Thorin."

Gandalf looked at him knowingly and gestured to the merry company around him. The dwarves were waiting with anticipation when he tore his eyes away. They had all been waiting for him to join them, and now that he had, he realised that most of his attention went straight to his nephews. 

Thorin acknowledged their attention with a nod, straightened his back, and took a deep breath. Then he started speaking. His words told of Erebor, of why they had gathered here. He spoke of the signs that he had followed lately. 

"Nearly five years", Fíli supplemented to underline how long that had been. Thorin spoke of the birds that he had seen and had heard of, returning to the mountain that was once theirs, even. From the look on everyone's eyes, it's what they wanted to hear but also what they already knew. 

Thorin's eyes turned to the hobbit once more. It was Galdalf's choice to bring him along, he thought to himself, and while it was beyond Thorin's comprehension what use the hobbit could be in this company of dwarves and man, he trusted the wizard enough to understand that his presence was well considered.

Whenever Thorin turned to Kíli, he paused to wonder what it was that had changed. He had grown, Thorin thought. But how, and how in those few years he had been away? He took care not to linger, but once Kíli coughed and he must have done so anyway, so he quickly turned back to the others and looked past Kíli the next time.

The conversation quickly took off from there, and Thorin couldn't say he minded. He had looked forward to this moment for a long time, but he was also weary of the trip. There were only so many times he could get lost in these hills before he had started coming loose around the frays.

*********

When the conversation ended and, sometime later, most had fallen asleep on the floor or whatever soft surface was available - Bombur naturally having picked the hard tiled floor of the kitchen - and the hobbit had made no signs of being interested in joining, Thorin quietly got to his feet. He opened the front door with as little creaking as he could, and sat down in the grass outside. The moon shone bright enough for him to see as much as he would at day. Being a dwarf had its advantages even in the hills of the Shire, he mused.

He would have laid himself down and fallen asleep there, alone in peace, if a voice hadn't come from his left at that moment.

"Thorin Oakenshield."

The merry smile of Balin grinned back at him, seated on the small hobbit's bench a little further. "Long time, my friend. You must be tired, but sit with me if you will," he offered. The dwarf only gave Thorin a moment to consider, hardly enough time to get up, before he got up himself and sat down next to the prince. Balin smiled. 

Thorin returned the sentiment. "Long time indeed. Years, if I must believe my nephew. I never kept track of time, myself. How have you been?"

"Oh, well, the same of course. Your coming signals the first change in years. A journey to reclaim Erebor," he mused, "And at my age. But enough about me. How are you?"

"Truthfully," laughed Thorin in a way that he could around an old comrade, "Tired. But hopeful, too, once I've had a good night's rest. After so many years, Erebor will be ours again. These are exciting times, Balin."

"Ah. There's the dragon, of course."

"The signs are showing, friend. I give you my word, we will have a home again."

Balin smiled at the thought and looked out over Bag's End. "Wouldn't that be something?" he mused. "And you would have no need for wandering anymore. Fíli and Kíli, your kin, they missed you. They never said so to me or any of the others, they are proud as befits the blood of Durin, but you can see it in their eyes. From what I saw back there-," he nodded over to the house, "- I say you must have missed them greatly, too."

"They haven't changed a bit," said Thorin fondly.

"Haven't they?"

Thorin looked up. His thoughts went back to Kíli. Something had changed. But what? Had the older dwarf noticed it too? When he turned to Balin, Balin simply smiled like it was an innocent remark, no harm meant, and took a puff of his pipe. All the care in the world had not touched Balin. Thorin frowned.

"Do you think they have?"

Balin put out his pipe. "They are eager to talk to you. They've been trying to get you apart from the others for most of the evening, but so has everyone else. Except for Bilbo, though I wouldn't be wrong in saying that the hobbit was trying to get everyone to not talk to him, about him, or in his house instead."

A smile masked the pang of guilt that flashed through the dwarf prince. He had missed them dearly, he couldn't deny that. There was something that Balin knew though. He wanted to know what it was. Before he could voice that, he was interrupted.

"The road to the Lonely Mountain is long," smiled Balin, who stumbled up and stretched. "There will be chances aplenty for talk tomorrow, or the day after that. I see you need a good rest, my friend. The longer we talk, the less you may sleep. Dawn is a few hours away. Let us continue our conversation another time."

Sleep came to Thorin soon, in the soft grass outside the hobbit hill. Six hours later, so too did the early sun.

*********

The next days were uneventful. Bilbo had decided to follow the company after all. Thorin had lost himself several coins in the bet and only grudgingly parted from them. Gandalf had been amused throughout the day, and he suspected that Óin and Gloin had also benefitted from the gamble, for their smiles were just as wide. Other than that, they had been blessed with sunshine and a warm bed at night. Everyone was in good spirits. It was starting to sink in that Erebor was no longer a dream beyond grasp.

Thorin had yet to talk with Fíli or Kíli when one night Kíli joked about the orcs to the hobbit, and Thorin's jaw clenched. Silence fell. He could feel Balin's worried gaze at him. The Kíli that he knew would not have made such a casual remark about orcs. The Kíli from five years ago had been considerate enough to be more delicate with mentions of the fate of Moria and their late king - his mourned grandfather. So when things settled down, Balin retreated after explaining, and the subject was changed, Thorin stood next to him, tapped him on his shoulder - saw him pale, and saw Fíli tense next to him - and nodded for him to follow.

When Kíli sat down, Thorin sat down in front of him and stared at him hard. He didn't care whether he made his nephew feel uncomfortable. "That was out of line, Kíli," he said.

"I didn't mean to." Kíli bit his lip and looked away ashamed. Thorin moved right into his line of vision. He would have none of it. If he spoke to someone, he would have him look at him.

"Why did you then?"

"I don't know. It was meant as a joke. Honestly, I thought he knew. I didn't mean to offend you. I know what they did. To Thrór. To Moria. There is nothing I find funny about that, uncle. What they did was inexcusable."

Thorin looked at him, really looked at him. Then he sat back, breathed out, and leaned his weight on one hand. The sky up was dark and dotted with stars. If he would try, he could imagine being back in the mountains, looking up through one of the air vents from the higher regions of the tunnels. For him the wilderness was something he'd gotten used to. Kíli, who had spent his live with other dwarves surrounded by settlements and strongholds, it was likely to be all new and uncomfortable. Maybe some of that rubbed off on his behaviour. The boy had never looked as out of it as he'd done in this company. He was the only one with a bow, the youngest of the dwarves, and most likely the one most inexperienced travelling.

Thorin gave it a rest. "How have you been?" he asked at last, at which Kíli visibly relaxed. "Did you learn a lot when I was away?"

Kíli thought. Then he grinned happily. "I learned a little about smithing." He frowned. "I also learned that I'm not built for the forge. I mastered the bow further. Not everyone likes that I use one. The last one broke and I had to make a new one for myself. For all our masters of craftsmanship, there was no one who knew how to make a proper bow." Kíli laughed. The proud look that crossed Thorin's face seemed to instantly fuel his enthusiasm. "You should have seen it, it was terrible. Fíli luckily found me a new one when he came back from a trek not too much later. It's elven, but rather an elven bow than one made by Kíli. Fíli thought the same thing when he took it with him for me. I gave the other one to the fire."

You're older," said Thorin. "I am glad."

"Five years! Who knows I might even grow a beard soon!"

The older dwarf's laugh rumbled deep in his chest. "If it would, it would have happened already. Your brother sported one five years ago already."

"Fifteen, even," frowned Kíli, "It's not fair."

Thorin leaned forward and tousled his hair with a stern face, at which Kíli's frown deepened and he protested. His fingers weaved into his hair to mess out the knots. "At least braid your hair more like a grown man does," was the answer he got, "Or it won't be the last time you'll find yourself looking like you do now. You're of the line of Durin. A certain pride comes with that."

Thorin hadn't expected Kíli to take the light-hearted comment serious enough for a sparkle to appear in his eyes, right before he stubbornly turned around, scooted closer, and offered Thorin his hair. 

"If you will," he said, "I promise I'll try to keep them in as long as I can. It would be an honour."

"Kíli."

"Yes?"

Thorin didn't braid other men's hair. He had braided Kíli's plenty of times when he was younger, but that was when he was younger. A fully grown man braiding another grown man's hair just wasn't done. At least not by Thorin. His hands awkwardly reached out, - it would be nice to share a long overdue closeness between them - then stilled - no matter how he reasoned, it was still awkward - and retreated.

"Ask your brother."

As the younger turned, Thorin found himself too close to a displeased Kíli, with tousled hair and still a hint of mischief in his eyes. Such was Kíli, that much hadn't changed. Thorin sighed demonstratively as if he wasn't amused by the whole thing. "Sometimes I think you just pretend you've grown up."

"I have grown up!" grinned Kíli.

"Have you now?"

"I'm not a boy anymore, Thorin."

"I'm sorry I missed the change."

That set Kíli back to a comfortable distance at least.

Thorin's thoughts paused at the stronger-than-expected reaction. It was really a carefree comment, or at least intended as such. Where did that suddenly come from? Was it because he'd been away for so long? He hadn't meant to stay away for five years. Especially Kíli, who had always been around him whenever he could, had to have taken it badly. The thought hadn't crossed Thorin's mind before.

The man was pulled out of his budding guilt when Kíli got up and sincerely smiled at him, no trace of his mischief this time. It was a disarming smile, rare for the younger - always so abundantly cheerful - to give. 

"I missed you," he said. "I'm really glad we met again, so don't leave us this time."

"Of course not," Thorin softly spoke. 

He missed him too, he meant to say.

*********

There were voices adrift. They floated into his dreams until dreams became waking ones and turned into whispers of reality, which he tried to push back into slumber. He nearly succeeded. Then another whisper slipped under his sleep and prodded him. Casual talk of whoever stood guard, by the sound of it. Thorin was sure that whoever they were, they weren't what eventually woke him, but when he opened his eyes at last and sleep finally fully eluded him, dawn had yet hours to come. Great.

When the next incoherent whisper reached his ears, he strained himself to hear. 

Nothing.

All around him everyone was asleep. Even Gandalf looked to be lost in dreams, strangely immune to the abundant snoring going on around him. Only Bilbo didn't snore. Thorin looked around. Kíli was fast asleep. The bedroll next to him was empty.

Fíli it was, then, standing guard without his brother. That by itself was strange, until Thorin couldn't find Balin either and assumed that Balin must have offered in a chance to talk to the younger. He thought about going back to sleep, or try at least. Three seconds later he agitatedly opened his eyes again. Sleep wasn't going to work.

"...es he know?"

The voices drifted closer as Thorin padded closer. He was awake now anyway, he might as well make himself useful and see if he could switch patrols with one of them. Something made him stop in his steps when the conversation became distinguishable.

"I don't believe he does. It's not my thing to tell. Nor is it yours, or anyone's except his own, even if he never made a secret of it before. Maybe he should have. Oh, he should have. What if he hears it from the wrong person? Brother has always been too trusting."

Fíli's brother. So this was about Kíli. Balin had mentioned him in his cryptic small talk before, though he hadn't elaborated on it as he had hinted he would. Thorin knew he had to hear this. He edged closer.

"Did you talk to him?"

"He will tell when he's ready to, he said."

"So Thorin will hear from someone else. That's bad, Fíli," Balin groaned, "He will be angry."

Thorin already was very, very angry. There was something about Kíli that he supposedly needed to know, but which everyone else did know and he was the only one not in the game. As the son of Thráin, son of Thrór, Thorin was used to certain things. Being left in the dark was not one of those things, nor something he could accept. The next step that his boots took closer deliberately cracked a twig. 

When Balin and Fíli turned around with wide eyes, Thorin did his best to look like he just came from a casual walk. He hadn't heard. Anger didn't suit his pride. The corners of his mouth twitched.

"Thorin," croaked Fíli.

"Fíli," acknowledged Thorin. "Balin, dear friend. You really should let others patrol. Get some sleep. It eludes me, so I might as well make myself useful."

The dismissal in his voice was as obvious as any. Balin bowed to him and scurried off. Thorin thought he looked a little too grateful. Fíli, on the other hand, tensed as the eldest dwarf took his leave and looked out into the darkness to distract himself. 

"At ease, Fíli," rumbled Thorin.

When he did, Thorin smiled. This time it came more naturally - he was in control of the situation again. "So, tell me what it is that I don't know."

Fíli looked like a deer caught in headlights. "Thorin," he muttered, "You overheard?"

"Enough to know that almost everyone carries a secret that involves Kíli and I should not know until he tells me of it himself."

"I...," Fíli winced apologetically, "It's really his to tell, uncle. He made me promise. I'm sure it'll come to light soon. It's good to see you again," he tried to smooth things over, "You must have seen a lot of things."

"I did," Thorin permitted. "I will tell you all about it someday." He did feel sorry for cornering his oldest nephew like this when they hadn't even had the time to catch up. But the thought did keep nagging at the back of his head. "Did everyone else make him the same promise?"

"I... well, no."

"I should ask one of them. Who else knows?"

"Aside from the hobbit?"

"Oh, so he doesn't know?" Thorin's eyes tore into Fíli, "That's a comfort at least."

"It's really nothing."

Thorin took a breath. "Sit down," he offered, and did the same after Fíli. "If it's nothing, you may tell me and I will pretend not to know until he tells me so himself. Yet I will have my answer."

Fíli's hands traced circles on the ground. They paused when he looked up, but Thorin wouldn't give him any leeway. The fingers continued and at last Fíli caved. 

"You were gone for a long time," he started, stilled, and spoke slowly, "Kíli's always been fond of you, you know that. You have also been more strict with him than you ever were with me." 

When Thorin opened his mouth to protest, it was Fíli's turn to silence him with a look. 

"You must have been aware that he had suitors-"

"Men do not have suitors." 

Semantics aside, Thorin did not like where this was going.

\- "Admirers," Fíli corrected. "If you will. What I'm trying to say is," and oh, did he not know how to say it otherwise, "While you were away, Kíli took a man into his bed."

That explained everything.

Thorin's hands shook. Kíli, untainted Kíli, who had never been with anyone before Thorin left. His pride. Something within him broke. 

"That's not uncommon," he tried to reason with an unbefittingly raspy voice. It actually was uncommon with dwarves, he told himself, but it happened and it was accepted as such. Aside from Thorin's pride taking a blow, it wasn't the end of the world.

Something about Fíli's apologetically hunched shoulders told him he hadn't heard the worst of it.

"Kíli... doesn't lead, uncle."

Oh. Thorin stilled. His heart instead beat a thousand beats. While a man sleeping with a man he could handle, his nephew - descendant of the proud line of Durin and ever his favourite - had allowed himself to be taken by another. Debased, as an inferior. His respect dwindled.

Fíli looked contrite about ever speaking. He kept quiet. The tension in the air clotted.

Pressing underneath Thorin's growing rage however arose something unimaginably worse. 

His own imagination was already beginning to betray him.

In his thoughts there formed the picture of the young dwarf. His lips were delicately parted. All around him it was dark, save for a few weak lights that could be candles or lights from outside - anything - but more importantly, they reflected on beads of sweat and the sheen on his skin. His forehead pressed against sheets. Kíli supported himself on his elbows and lower arms as he was pushed sharply against the surface of a bed, again and again.

His rhythmic moans and fractured gasps filed the air, to be intermingled by those of a voice much deeper.

Thorin sat back with a deep groan and pushed the image away. He would hurt the man that had done that. First he would hurt him, and then he would leave him disgraced, open for all to witness as a sinner. The man would regret the day he turned his eyes on Kíli. No one touched a son of Durin that way and got away with it. 

Fíli looked at him oddly.

In the end, Thorin knew that whatever he thought up, the image of Kíli would remain polluted. He was no longer a boy, indeed. And Thorin hadn't been there for him.

"A youthful mistake," he tried to tell himself.

"... I am sorry." Fíli shook his head. Thorin wondered if he implied it was not a youthful mistake. He let it slide - he wasn't sure if he wanted to know. "I can't tell you more. Talk to him, please. He's worried for your response."

"He should be."

"He also needs you. I know you will not approve of it. Kíli knows it too. For his sake, be kind on him. You mean so much to him."

"He let a man... And everyone knew. Everyone knew?! Tell me how to forget that, Fíli? I don't see how I can."

Fíli remained silent.

Thorin's thoughts warred inside. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Out in front of him the darkness swallowed him whole. It was a comfortable feeling. It numbed him down.

"Get some sleep," Thorin said at last. And let me be alone, did he leave unspoken.

Kíli's legs were bent and his head had tipped back when next Thorin closed his eyes, with trembling hands that dug deep into a sweaty shoulder. Breathy whispers goaded the other on, and Kíli clung tighter and closer, close to being unhinged. He was so very fragile.

Thorin Oakenshield was no longer invincible when he opened his eyes and stared into the darkness ahead, willing his visions away through blurry eyes. The anger that festered within was tinged with a possessiveness and fuelled further by the feeling of powerlessness that followed whenever he had a moment to think. The strength of the particular emotion was new to him.

He had just found his greatest weakness.

*********

The days that followed were not of the best he had encountered, though the turmoil that haunted Thorin remained luckily restricted his head. Other than that, their trek was fairly merry and unexceptional. Fíli occasionally shot him a few worried glances. Balin did, too, and often Dwalin followed in those footsteps as well. Of course he hadn't expected Balin to keep his appearance a secret when Thorin hadn't specifically requested it so. Especially not if Dwalin already knew.

He wondered who else knew.

Whenever he felt eyes on him he looked right back at them and pretended nothing was wrong, before focusing his gaze back on the road.

They ate squirrel that night. Bilbo fidgeted with the seasoning of the soup. Bombur seemed to be eager to learn about herbs, because he didn't leave the halfling out of his sight for longer than was necessary. While technically it was Bombur's soup, not the hobbit´s. Gandalf enjoyed the company quietly as he tended to do. Fíli and Kíli had gone off to guard the ponies.

If Thorin was honest with himself, Fíli and Balin had every right to look at him the way they did. He had taken to avoiding Kíli. There was no discussion about talking to him like Fíli had suggested, for it wasn't going to happen. Thorin knew that if it would, he wouldn't be able to vouch for what he was going to say. 

Bilbo took off with two bowls in the direction of his nephews.

Unfortunately, he mere memory of having to face him eventually pulled another picture of Kíli in a compromised position into Thorin's already terribly overactive mind. He bit his tongue to keep himself in check and focused on the food. It did really smell nice, if he had to admit it. Not that he would admit it, of course, not unless Bombur and his years of experience had made the soup himself instead of stirring through it the knowledge of someone who yet had to earn his place. 

Unfortunately Kíli's imaginary whimpers refused to be subdued by the smell of herbs. If only one of them could break out in a song. He needed that.

*********

When the next morning they all took to their rescued ponies after a night of trolls, a roasting fire and the profound lack of sleep that followed, he wished he could sleep in the saddle like some of the others and at least try to give his tired mind some rest.

Kíli was sleeping, he saw. Fíli guided the reigns of his horse. The care that he held for his brother was great. Thorin had long cared for Kíli like that. He wished he could again. Why did it matter so much to him that Kíli had a different sense of dwarvish pride than others? It shouldn't make a difference. 

It did. Thorin couldn't stop thinking about Kíli like that. He was fully aware that it was irrational and unfair of him, but he couldn't help but blame the younger dwarf for it.

Fíli glanced up. The look he gave Thorin was a sad one.

*********

The day they reached Rivendell, Fíli took Thorin apart from the others.

"You can't do this to him, uncle. You won't talk to him, you turn when he looks at you. He doesn't know what he's done to have offended you."

The peacefully secluded world that was Rivendell stood in stark contrast with Thorin's inner state, whose mood darkened at once. Even if Fíli was right, it had been a long time and would be a long time before he'd be talked to in such a commanding undertone.

"Are you lecturing me, Fíli?"

Fíli stopped, clearly realising he overstepped a boundary. Then he bit, "Someone should! You mean the world to him, and last time I checked I thought he meant the same to you. I knew you would take it badly, but I truly thought you'd come around in the end. Listen, I admit I wasn't very glad to hear it either. When he told me what he did, I wasn't even aware he thought about things like that. We used to tell each other everything. But he's my brother. I just can't stay upset with him. This is Kíli we're talking about. How can you stay so angry, uncle? Is it truly only disappointment?"

"Why did he do it?" asked Thorin.

"Ask him! He's right there! Please."

"I'm asking you."

Fíli groaned. "I cannot give you the answer. Whether it was because he was lonely or whether he loved him, he never said. But he was heartbroken when it ended, and I had to pick up the pieces." Much quieter, he added, "Like I'm doing now."

Thorin was conflicted. He paused and leaned a little further into his shoulders on the guard rail just over a thundering waterfall. It proved effective in drowning out their private conversation to anyone else. "I know he means no ill, Fíli," he said at last. "That doesn't mean I can just forget about it."

Fíli leaned over the curved railing next to the prince and gazed out over Rivendell without really seeing. "It wasn't a sleight towards you."

Thorin shook his head. He had told himself not to tell anyone else. Fíli had the right to know though. "It wasn't," started he, "But that's not what I mean to say. I can't forget about it. When I look at Kíli, I..." Thorin sighed. "I see him. How he'd look, when he..." Words didn't come to him. For all the emotions that had taken him along in their currents throughout his life, he was terrible at voicing them. "It's not how I want to see him."

Fíli understood. "Oh, uncle."

Thorin turned away. "I will talk to him," he promised. "In time. Just give me some time befo-"

"Fíli! There you are!"

Boisterous footsteps bounded off the marble steps and onto the circular square. Kíli panted. "I've been looking for you everywhere! Galdalf said -", his eyes fell on Thorin, then on their awkward looks at each other. "Oh. Am I interrupting something? I'm sorry."

Kíli offered them both a cheerful bow and just continued interrupting. "Uncle. Can I borrow Fíli from you for a while? I found something he really needs to see. I mean, if I'm not interrupting, of course. I don't mean to... interrupt... anything." Kíli frowned. At the end of his sentence, he must have understood himself how interrupting he was.

What he obviously didn't understand was the pained silence. Then again, he seemed rather impervious to it too, for the grin wouldn't leave his face. Thorin wondered though. There was a waver in his voice that betrayed a nervousness. "It's good to see you," Kíli offered him, "Are you well?"

Fíli took that moment to butt in for the safety of both. "I was actually just going to find you," came the easy white lie that was so transparent that even Kíli frowned, "Come on then, show me." To his uncle he bowed, "By your leave." 

Thorin gladly nodded.

*********

He hadn't seen his nephews all day, less reserved as they were with elven culture than he, when the second night came and Thorin thought he could finally get a good night's rest.

He had asked for a harp player to soothe his dreams. Terrible music as he found it to be, it seemed like a well laid-out plan to just distract him with his annoyance with the elves from the more frustrating matter at hand, until he was well asleep and thoughts could haunt him no longer. Thorin never remembered dreams, which he found agreeable. It meant that sleep was just sleep, not another chance at things unbecoming.

Gandalf had looked at him knowingly when he had requested the harp music, and had offered some dream berries that, he said, always helped him greatly whenever sleep confounded him. They lay next to Thorin's bed. Thorin had accepted them politely when they were offered, though he didn't intend on having them. He would do just fine on his own.

He proudly stirred on the left side of the overly large, elaborate bed, grinning that tonight he would finally best the torment that had followed him for too long already, and prided himself for the personal victory. Harp's notes drifted in through the window like water in a stream. They were actually soothing, strangely enough. Not that he'd ever admit that to the elves.

Thorin rolled on his side, content.

It was the first time he imagined Kíli this way, not turned around like a man, as the ghost of the younger sat down on the corner of the empty bed in front of him. If he tried, Thorin could even pretend feeling the bed denting. The anonymous paramour guided Kíli down, then leaned down and kissed him. All was silent when they did, as if the whole world stilled for them.

Kíli reached up and led the other on top of him. His hands, one of them callous of the bow, drew ever so light patterns on darker skin. On his face was no longer the wanton expression that had frustrated Thorin incessantly. Instead his imagination gave him a smile through lidded eyes, and it was so pure, so intimate and different from the other thoughts, that Thorin wasn't aware that they were the same line of thoughts until he imagined Kíli's legs wrapping around his lover's hips and the sound of lips parting after a deep kiss. 

He frustratedly sat up and threw the covers on the floor with and angry cry. 

Feet stomped over to the water basin in agitation. Thorin splashed as much water into his face as the faucet would have to offer. And oh, elven or not, guest or not, he needed to smash something. He wanted to ruin it beyond repair and give resonance to the way he felt inside.

Thorin looked at the reflection of the large mirror behind him. A broken man stared back. 

"By all that is mighty," his voice chafed. He sat back on the bed and put his head in his hands. "One night, that's all I ask." 

There was something else. 

His body was burning up and his head felt dizzy. It was the lack of sleep, he told himself. But Thorin had gotten so used to lying to himself over the last few days that even he wouldn't accept that excuse. He looked down at his lap, where his desire stood straight and strong, and undeniable. His throat constricted. 

Please no. Anything but that.

*********

Thorin was terrible to Kíli for the next three days. At the end of those three days, the young dwarf had stopped smiling that smile that Thorin had always valued and was instead almost closer to crying. Fíli's eyes blazed with anger whenever they met Thorin's, and Thorin himself felt no better than he would have if he'd acted normally.

Some of the others had started to notice his frustration. Balin kept throwing him worried glances. Dwalin did now too, and Bofur kept trying to cheer Kíli up without results, which in turn rescinded his good spirits too.

The three days would have continued, had Kíli not stepped inside his bedroom at the end of the third day and cornered him.

"Something troubles you."

His eyes were red, but dry. That most likely meant that Kíli had cried, Fíli had pulled him together, and was most likely barring the door on the outside. If Thorin wanted to escape, the elven architecture with their love for open arcs and filigree sills wouldn't be all that effective at keeping him in, but pride stopped him from going into a rage strong enough to get to that point. His heart beat furiously. Out of anger or fear, he didn't know.

"Kíli."

"Did I do something wrong? If I did, I promise it won't happen again."

Thorin's gaze was merciless. He had to be. If he didn't hold himself together, the undue guilt that Kíli portrayed would tear him apart.

"You did nothing," his hoarse voice spoke.

The relief on the other's face was almost enough for Thorin to want to hold him tight and protect him from whatever else could ever hurt him. None of this was supposed to happen. He wanted to scold Kíli for doing what he'd done, he really did. Thorin also knew it wouldn't be right. His biggest frustration about it all came from himself. Accepting that, with a pride as big as his own, was still hard. 

Though he didn't know what to say when Kíli spoke, "Then what is it? Let me help with whatever troubles you, Thorin. Do you not see it hurts me too?"

What did one say to that? He couldn't lie. The image of Fíli came to mind. That one would never accept it if he got the chance to talk to Kíli and then didn't. Thorin turned around. He didn't wish to look upon the young dwarf's face as he tore his carefully restoring mood to shreds again.

"You kept a secret from me, have you not?"

"...I don't know." Kíli frowned. He thought long. "Oh."

It took a second for Thorin's suggestion to reach the other. Then it seemed to hit him full force. Within strides Kíli clung to Thorin's back, held him, grasped for purchase on the cloak that only their leader would still wear as a guest. His voice was wrecked. "Oh, Thorin. Forgive me. Please, forgive me. I tried to tell you, I really did. It just never..." Kíli's voice broke.

A lump rose in Thorin's throat. He couldn't keep calm, not at this onslaught of emotions.

"You never did. You did not even take, I was told. Instead you let someone have you. You, the line of Durin! Corrupted. I hope it was worth it, Kíli. You have no idea how disappointed in you I am."

"I am so sorry," breathed Kíli into the cloak. "I let you down. I was so lonely."

"You had Fíli, had you not?"

"That was different! Fíli has been with others. He's always been good at getting what he wanted, and he always knew what it was he wanted. But when he'd tell me about it, I never understood. Fíli could always do as he wished. I have tried to hold on for so long, but it was lonely, Thorin. When it happened, I had no strength left to stop it."

While Kíli's words were meant to soothe, they only flared Thorin's anger. He turned around darkly. "Fíli suggested you loved him."

"Fíli? Brother told you about him?" Kíli, distraught and crying - it ill befit a dwarf, Thorin thought when he saw it, but he couldn't bear the tears for other reasons - now looked betrayed. "I did love him. He came to me, he did. He was proud and headstrong," Kíli smiled sadly, "Then again, aren't we all? But he made me feel warm and I felt protected with him."

"You're a dwarf. You are supposed to be able to protect yourself," hissed Thorin disdainfully.

Kíli shot him a sad look. "We both know that I've always had someone protect me until you left."

Thorin leaned for support against the wall. Kíli was right. His anger ebbed away slowly. What was left behind was weariness. Hurt.

"You love him?" he asked.

"I did," whispered Kíli.

"Did you stop?" a frown.

Kíli looked away. "... He left for battle four months later and never returned, Thorin"

When Thorin looked up, guilt rid him of his last anger. Guilt for what he had caused. Kíli stood broken, fighting to hold back the unruly emotions that painfully visibly wrecked him. Thorin had no right to judge him. Kíli bore no blame for his lack of sleep, nor was he to blame for the thoughts that tormented his every waking hour. Thorin knew that his imagination had brought that entirely upon himself. He looked so lost that Thorin wanted nothing more than to hold him and tell him everything would be alright. 

He couldn't.

"I'm sorry," Thorin said.

Kíli's eyes widened and he shook his head strongly. The proud dwarf prince never apologised. Kíli knew that. And apparently, nor did he feel worthy of that apology. "I should be the one apologising," he said quickly.

"You shouldn't," Thorin told him, "Not if your intentions were honest."

"Always," whispered Kíli.

The elder gave a wry smile. "I don't approve of it, and you could have known I wouldn't, so you would have done well to tell me yourself instead of letting me hear it from someone else. But I can't condemn you for growing up and choosing your own ways, now can I?"

Kíli hadn't expected that, obviously. If it was any consolation, nor had Thorin, who knew he was only protecting the young dwarf's feelings with such a noble but utter falsehood. So his words were proud and honorable. Not that it made him feel any better himself. At least Kíli seemed grateful enough, though more sorrowful for that matter too.

"Could we start over?" 

Admirable, Thorin thought with an inward smile.

"No," he shook his head.

Kíli's hope dropped.

A calm settled. He never forgot sleights, never forgot defeats or allowed lies to persist. That was his nature. He was tired however, and there lay enough appeal in Kíli's suggestion, however impossible for him, to try. So he stood up and put his hand on the other's shoulder for comfort. Kíli gripped his hand tight. 

"What happened, happened. You made that choice, and you're going to live with the consequences. My own fault is not coming to see the two of you more often. You gave me cause to regret that more than anything. That is my burden to bear. But there are little more words to be said about it, no matter how many we may think to spend on repeating ourselves, so what do you say to starting to repair the cracks?"

Kíli nodded thankfully, timidly. "I'm sorry," he said again.

Thorin smiled reassuringly. "Now, is Fíli outside the door making sure I don't leave as I expect him to be, or do we have to pull him out of his sleep? It's really time we caught up on lost times."

So he told a few white lies. He had told a score of them actually , if he had to be honest. Two things were plain to Thorin. First of all - a truth he had only understood when he had put his pride aside - was that Kíli was not to blame. For any of this. The disproportionate reaction that Thorin experienced, the dreams and machinations of his mind, they had nothing to do with any unfit conduct or ill discretion on Kíli's side. In fact the boy had handled it with admirable tact and delicacy - save for not telling him. That was on Thorin. Nor were Kíli's actions accountable for the lump in his throat or tightness in his stomach that his hopeful nod and returning cheerfulness had just raised - that Thorin angrily tried to push away.

Second of all, Kíli could never, under any circumstance, find out what kind of effect he had on him.

It was for that measure that Thorin pulled him into a hug, making sure that none of the tell-tale signs of his affection were obvious. Kíli was still a wreck, he judged from the irregular breathing. That wasn't right. The Kíli that he knew, boy or man, shouldn't be anything other than infectiously cheerful and open. Thorin pulled away and raised up the other's face to look at his own with his hand under Kíli's chin. 

"Cheer up," said he, "I can't stand to see you like this."

Kíli laughed in hiccoughs. Thorin tried not to take note of how easily Kíli leaned against his hand or how his body yearned for more support than just the comforting hand on his shoulder and the other tucked under his chin could give him. He read too much into it as usual. "I'll do my best," he nodded.

"A pint of ale should help."

"Then we'd better wake up Fíli or he won't stop giving us foul looks in the morning."

"So he isn't outside the door. I'm surprised at his restraint."

"I sent him away."

"Ignore that surprise."

"Wake him anyway."

There it was again, the hint of mischief. How it should be. It made both of them smile. 

For a moment, Thorin thought he could do this.

*********

Bilbo was musing at something again. He always was. This time Balin sat smiling by him and listened to whatever ramblings came out. He occasionally put in his own two cents, but otherwise seemed fine just sitting there on his comfortable seat under the light-dabbled gazebo, enjoying his occasional whiff of pipe weed.

The others had become quite convinced of the use of he hobbit. Kíli and Fíli were often seem around him as well, as if they had together instated an invisible guard around him. Thorin waited for their imminent appearance.

It took them longer than an hour, an hour in which Gandalf had sat down next to him and mentioned something in passing about leaving at dawn, and Dori had tried to get him to try three different kinds of herb tea. An hour which he had devoted to honing the edge of his new elven blade and continued on, no matter who it was that talked to him.

He didn't put away the blade when eventually Kíli and Fíli did show up. Instead the whetstone kept sliding over the razor sharp edge, each chafe adding a more lethal ring to it. Thorin watched as Kíli placed two pheasants on the table in front of the hobbit with pride. Both were felled by an arrow and were currently seeping blood all over one of lord Elrond's splendid bleached woodcut tables.

It was a pity that Fíli discovered it so soon and instantly pulled the fowl off the table again, much to Kíli's realisation and immediate embarrassment, and to Thorin's pity. Fíli said something to Kíli, who then looked his way.

"Thorin!" he called out, "There's to be meat on the table tonight at last! Look at what we caught! Bilbo agreed to do the flavouring."

The way Bilbo looked at the heir of Erebor then, like he hadn't noticed him, before was instantly fidgety. Thorin squinted. He just knew he was up to sneaking off any time soon. Fíli, Kíli and Balin were the halfling's exact opposite - the promise of decent food was enough to stamp a happy grin on all three of them.

"Good!" he called back, "Good. Proper food for a dwarf at last. Be careful not to let the elves see the birds before plucked and ready. One or two of them might faint."

Fíli called back in good nature, "I think that on our way here one already did."

For a moment, things felt like they were starting to fall back into place and return to normal. Kíli and Fíli - they had become even more inseparable and thankfully much more cheerful since Kíli and Thorin's talk - took off to the kitchens with their game tossed over Fíli's shoulders. Bilbo called after them, "I'll be there in a minute!" and avoided Thorin's look for the remainder of the seconds left. 

Things felt blissfully peaceful, like it should be, and Thorin couldn't help but hope that he'd be able to continue keeping it under control.

*********

When he opened his eyes to the dome of the bedroom ceiling that night, Thorin saw Kíli in a meadow of flowers on a solstice night, and himself reflected in soft brown eyes descending on top of him.

Dream berries thankfully helped with the thoughts. They did little for the physical side of his affliction, though Thorin had with great shame accepted that a cure was available for that as well.

*********

They left before dawn. The hobbit particularly complained with eyes sleepy and frequent yawns. He once looked back on Rivendell wistfully when they were higher up in the surrounding mountains - no doubt he hadn't wanted to leave the place at all - and then grudgingly carried on.

Kíli and Fíli sang a song to lift everyone's spirits, while some of the older dwarves with less of the same youthful stamina to do both at the same time focused on the climb.

Dori muttered something about going to miss the interesting drafts of the house of Elrond, while Ori next to him confided in him that he had been especially impressed with the library and its vast recorded knowledge. When Thorin glanced at them, they quickly added that all of those of course paled in comparison to the golden age of Erebor, and that the elven craftsmen seemed simply not to know what they were doing when it came to the riches of the earth.

The rest of the climb, Thorin stuck to the back of the company to make sure no one was left behind. He occasionally wondered what Kíli could be telling that had Bilbo alternately laugh and look up at him with great interest.

"Thank you," Fíli walked next to the prince from one moment to the next. When had he fallen behind?

"He came to me." Thorin didn't think he was due much gratitude. Fíli wouldn't think so either when he knew how he had just imagined everyone suddenly gone for some reason or another with himself pushing his dear younger brother up against one of the mossy rock walls. Especially not if he knew how Thorin had imagined his brother's wrecked breathing under his rough touches, his hair matted to his face and those condemning gasping lips.

Fíli smiled amiably. "I know. Also thank you for not avoiding him any longer. He is doing much better. He didn't tell me as such, but he smiles more often and he's more careless again. You should have seen him at the hunt yesterday. There was no stopping him. He scared mostly all of the game away. Those pheasants of his, they were a lucky hit."

Thorin's smile was a deep rumble, that ebbed with his next words, but never entirely left. "I didn't say I approve of what he did."

Fíli's good mood didn't drop. "Even good ore has imperfections that need a patient hand to weed out. I was so disappointed in him when he told me that I ignored him for days, even though I knew it hurt him. It was a selfish act that I regret still. But the beauty about Kíli is that he forgives and forgets. He only sees the best in people. It's a rare gift."

In front of the line, Kíli had slung an arm over Bilbo's shoulder and was teaching him dwarven songs. Gloin and Dwalin occasionally butted in, and then Kíli would shove either of them before continuing on with the song. Bilbo would fuss if one of them was pushed away too roughly, and whenever that happened Kíli too would make sure the other was alright. From time to time Gloin or Dwalin messed with him and then burst out laughing, earning a cry of outrage and an extra shove in return.

Thorin hadn't given Bilbo even a fifth of the number of chances that Fíli and Kíli had given the hobbit to find his place.

He also wondered how Kíli would be able to give his betraying visions of corrupting the younger - Thorin still surprised himself with how many means to that end he could come up with - a positive spin.

*********

As the day grew mistier and the sun showed itself less and less, their steps also slowed down. A single step off the path meant death in these surroundings. When rain added to that misery and the rocky road became slippery, Balin at last suggested the nearest cave for a rest.

The little wood they could find wasn't dry, so many sparks refused to set the branches alight for some well-deserved warmth.

"What a waste," muttered Dwalin, "All that leftover meat and no fire to prepare it."

"Not even the wizard would have been able to light something in this pathetic weather," bemoaned Gloin. "Surely Gandalf could have seen this weather coming and warned us or advised to leave a day later."

"Bah. Splitting rocks, that's all that one's good for. Where is he now, eh? Probably laughing with the elves, comfortably dry and cosy. I doubt we'd be seeing him again!"

"Gandalf will come," said Thorin from sitting on a rock further away from the failing campfire.

"Did he tell you so, then?"

Thorin did not speak.

"He certainly didn't tell us. I say he's not coming."

"Aye," complained Óin.

"Fellows, are we dwarves or not?" Fíli interrupted with a sincerity and authority in his voice that even surprised Thorin. "- And hobbit, Bilbo. Of course. What I'm saying. We've managed without a wizard before. We will manage now. And if he comes back, he will be most welcome."

"Especially if he knows how to light fires," chimed Kíli in.

A merry roar of laughter went around the company.

Bilbo said something to Kíli's ears, his left hand tugging on the dwarf's shoulder.

Thorin's look darkened.

"And brings more pipe weed!" relayed Kíli to the circle of dwarves loudly.

"Aye!" resounded from several of them.

That was the last that Thorin heard before he took out his whetstone again and from there on paid attention to nothing more than the soothing song of stone on metal.

*********

They witnessed the spectacle between the stone giants with equal amounts of awe and fear. Instant death in the shape of tons of rock came thundering down the face of the mountain and still, frightened as they were, there was something majestic about it. Stone giants were the stuff of legends. To be blessed witnessing even more than one was a good sign for their journey, a good sign indeed.

To be blessed with Kíli's survival after that dreadful collision between rock and stone, with half of them stuck in the deadly space in between, put all of that in a different perspective.

When they reached the dry cave and declared it safe, Thorin immediately pulled the young dwarf flush against him. Kíli muffled a surprised "Oh!" against his furs.

"Kíli." Kíli looked up. Thorin just held him closer. "I'm so glad you're alive."

"... You called out for me," like it was strange.

Thorin hummed in acknowledgement.

When Kíli pulled away, he stood before Thorin surprisingly humbled, the dwarf prince's hands on both his shoulders. Kíli's eyes lingered on him, searching, somehow hopeful, though Thorin didn't pay them much attention. He was brimming with gratitude. Kíli lived. When the younger began to fumble under his gaze, Fíli came to his rescue with a firm clasp on Thorin's shoulder.

"Uncle," he said, and led him away. Thorin thought for an second he could see Kíli throw his brother a look.

When they were out of range for the others, Fíli let his concern shine.

"You were too harsh on Bilbo. He has done nothing but try to get on your good side from the start."

The glare that Fíli received did not make him cringe. Thorin felt proud about his heir's growing resolution, as well as he brimmed with indignation.

"Name one thing that speaks for him."

"The others like him. He lifts our spirits when we need it." That's more than could be said of the company's leader, hung in the air unsaid.

"If I wanted a bard, I would have hired an elf."

"Bilbo was Gandalf's choice. You've made it plain he isn't yours."

"His worth eludes me, Fíli."

"So it may, and I shall not deny that. But even if Gandalf's decision proves wrong, and we don't know if it will, don't discard his use to the company. He can cook. Some feel better just by looking at him fuss over something. He makes Kíli laugh. And truthfully, I'm fond of him."

There seemed no end to the number of times his nephew would lecture him and Thorin would grudgingly be forced to admit the validity of each argument. It chafed on his pride. "Very well," he said. "I will try."

As he looked over to the group, Kíli and Bilbo were again laughing at something together.

*********

Thorin didn't star in the imaginations that tore him asunder that night. Nor did he get physically affected. He ought to be happy, as peaceful sleep usually - in theory - came to him easier that way.

Instead his hands gripped into fists and he ground his teeth at the thought of Kíli's gradual demise at the hands of a new appearance in his dreams. The boy's back arched beautifully. Kíli sat naked on a bed of Rivendell. Around him, for no obvious reason than that this was a fabrication of his mind, the gold-veined depths of Erebor burrowed themselves into the ground and a single white tree shed its autumn leaves around him. In his lap, the smallest of their company pulled him closer to card a hand into his hair and lick at his neck.

"Bilbo," gasped out Kíli.

Thorin's eyes shot open where he lay. His brows furrowed and he clenched his jaw. Instead of anger, there was jealousy. Jealousy, and an indescribable sensation of loss.

Kíli was his.

No. 

No, he wasn't. 

Gandalf would return. Thorin had not doubted that for a second. At last that was one thing the halfling and he had in common.

And oh, once he did, Thorin would consult him. There had to be a way, be it herbs or balms or true magic, but there had to he a method to rid him of this madness. At the idea of someone other than himself knowing, he just had to hope that his trust in the wizard proved justified.

So lost was he in thoughts, that he almost put it down to his own imagination when whispers of another conversation reached his ear. 

Bilbo and Bofur.

The hobbit was leaving?

It wasn't fair to stay quiet and greedily allow the situation he bore witness to unfold. Many things weren't fair. Thorin had no claim to Kíli just because he courted him in dreams.

He didn't move to keep the hobbit with them either.

*********

Looking back on it all hours later, the events were still a blur. The floor had suddenly opened up underneath them and swallowed them whole. From there on time had rushed them forward without allowing a moment to catch breath. They were delivered into the hands of goblins and fought their way out. Then they had been chased into trees by orcs. And then there had been the ride on the eagles - a part that Thorin had luckily missed entirely. From what he had heard, he had been the only one to be carried in one of the majestic claws with little in between him and a death's fall than thin air. Thorin didn't think he would have liked waking up to that.

He now unexpectedly owed his life to the halfling. The prince of dwarves had been entirely so wrong about their burglar.

"Stop it, Thorin," Gandalf admonished. Thorin stilled before his hand could examine a rib to assess the damage. He was seated on a rock with a wince on his face. "It's not going to heal any faster if you keep prodding it."

He did not talk back.

The things that had happened had been a humbling experience indeed. How was he to deliver his people Erebor when he - their leader, the one they looked up to - had fallen against Azog so easily? He had been defeated at the first blow, and hadn't dealt even a single one of importance himself.

And then there was Bilbo, the little hobbit with the greatest courage of any among them.

"You were right about the halfling," he spoke.

"Well of course I was."

They both looked at a tree branch, a little further down the forest, where Bilbo swatted away Kíli's concerned attempts at checking up on him. "I'm alright, really!" the two heard him exclaim.

Gandalf smiled fondly.

Thorin did not.

There were those moments, rare though they be, that he wished he had taken up the journey to Erebor alone. They didn't happen often, proud as he was of the noble dwarves who had answered his call, but now was one of them. He wished he could just escape like Bilbo had tried in the goblin caves, never looking back. Any one of these dwarves would be better off, not to mention Thorin himself. If he didn't feel like he'd let them down, he would leave without a moment's respite.

"There is something on your mind."

"More than one of it, I'm afraid." Thorin winced at a twist.

"Then speak of it, Thorin Oakenshield, and let it be heard."

It was harder to do so than when he had practiced how to breach the subject, just off the eagles and on track again.

"Thorin?"

"It's unimportant."

Gandalf's raised eyebrow obviously didn't believe him for a bit. Behind him, Kíli and Fíli sat themselves down next to Bilbo.

He might as well at least try to get rid of part of the problem.

"I feel I worry too much. It has been long since I slept a full night's rest. The dream berries... they help. But they do not stop me from worrying."

"Ah." Did Gandalf just glance at the company of three, or was he imagining it? He scraped his throat. "I'm afraid no magical cures for worrying exist, young prince. Many have asked me before you. But it happens I might know of a way to help you with your problem."

"Yes?"

"It seems to me that whatever worries you, you must either tackle the problem or, if that's not a possibility, then confide it to someone."

Well, that was a let-down. "You?" Thorin turned the raised eyebrow against the wizard.

"Oh," laughed Gandalf, "No, not necessarily no. Though I do happen to give the most excellent advice, should you be interested." He puffed at his pipe and smiled a crinkled smile. "No, I reckon that master Balin would be wonderful for advice. Perhaps Fíli, or Kíli?" A pause. Then the wizard pointed his pipe at the dwarf prince. "Ah, I see."

"What?" muttered Thorin stubbornly, "What do you see?"

"No matter," the wizard said back and smiled airily. "Fíli. Yes. He would be best for your question."

"You don't even know what the question is."

"Don't I?" 

And the wizard left.

Thorin cursed the wounds, courtesy of Azog, that prevented him from reaching up and pulling him back by his robes.

*********

"So."

Fíli followed Thorin's gaze.

Kíli was again talking with Bilbo. They occasionally glanced their way, and then quickly back again like they'd been caught. Plain to see what their talk was about.

"Does Bilbo still bother you?"

"Bilbo earned his rights."

"Then..."

They awkwardly sat there. Fíli was carving a stick into the sand, not because he didn't want to give his uncle his full attention, but rather that his uncle had called him and then proceeded to simply say nothing. Beorn's house stood in the background. With bedrolls, food, and better company. It was late. He really didn't have to do this.

"They are close, are they not?" Thorin asked at long last.

"Kíli and Bilbo? Sure. Kíli cares a great deal for the halfling, yes. Bilbo is very fond of Kíli's stories."

"Kíli likes him."

"Hm, yes." Fíli smiled at the sight. He mulled the stick through the sand. Then he snapped up.

"Oh, no. No, no, no. You don't mean...?"

Thorin sighed.

"Kíli always came to me when he wanted to tell something before. He never comes to me anymore. It seems it is Bilbo he tells now instead."

"You miss him."

They watched the two converse. Bilbo nodded. Kíli talked with large gestures and hands flailing. Then they laughed.

"They have my blessing," Thorin said bitterly. "There is little I can disagree to about a man who saved my life."

Fíli stiffened. When their eyes next met, his eyes bore great sympathy and sadness. "You don't really believe..." he started. "This is madness, Thorin. You've been thinking about this for far too long."

"Have I? Bilbo makes him smile. He spends more time around him than anyone else."

"Than you, you mean to say."

"Perhaps."

"Don't you think you're not being entirely honest with him? He thinks you still need to get used to what he did. It's only natural he doesn't talk to you as much right now. It will come back."

"If that would be, I would be patient."

Fíli shrugged. "If he doesn't come to you to talk, going to him will work better than patience."

They sat in silence. Fíli awkwardly started tracing the same curves again. When there was no more space, he wiped the ground clean with his boots and started anew.

"Tell me true," Thorin said at last. "Does Kíli see Bilbo that way?"

Fíli stiffened at a semi-circle. Obviously he didn't want to answer the question. Not with a simple yes or no, at least, and those were the only answers that Thorin was interested in - a piece of clarity. Then Fíli's tension eased away and he thought about the question. There was something akin to mischief in his eyes when at last Fíli spoke. 

"If he does, he hasn't done anything about it yet."

Thorin visibly relaxed.

Fíli mused on. "But judging from what I've seen, I don't think that if there's truly something going on between them, it'll take much longer to bring that out. And Bilbo's a curious little thing. He wouldn't say no if Kíli asked."

Fíli stuck the stick into the loose soil and stood up. He offered a bow to Thorin in visible turmoil and said quite imperviously, "Can I get you something to eat?"

*********

When Thorin fell asleep in the house of Beorn that night, he tried not to think. Gandalf, and his terrible advice, he thought to himself. Ask someone, he said. Talk to Fíli, he said.

Said nephew currently sat talking to Kíli. Bilbo was as always part of the same company. 

They all glanced at him so often that somehow the king under the mountains saw himself forced to pretend to be asleep and not notice.

Cursed wizard's advice.

Come next morning, Kíli lay on the bedroll opposite him, quietly watching. A warm smile graced his eyes and lips.

Oh, the things he wanted to do to him.

*********

There were only so many ways one could fashion food out of honey and flowers before the dwarves started complaining. When they were well on their way, ponies provided by the skin-changer and packed with as much food as they could carry, Fíli and Kíli were off in a beat to find themselves some proper meat for the campfire at night. They were occasionally spotted weaving in and out of eyesight. Fíli tracked. Kíli had the bow at his ready.

The pack of dwarves thrummed with anticipation for the feast to come.

Beorn had said a four days' ride would take them to the entrance of Mirkwood. That meant they had some time left to still enjoy the warmth of the sun and the presence of the natural world, before the darkness of the dead woods would block them out.

Thorin did intend to do just that. He found that he couldn't. Whenever he looked at the clover and daffodils, he was reminded of the time he imagined Kíli in a meadow with flowers tangled in his unbraided hair, and his stomach would jolt.

Three rabbits and a large hare roasted on the fire when twilight signalled the end of day, seasoned with herbs from Bilbo and some of Bombur - who knew a lot about gravy and other additions to plain meat, but was only finally getting the hang of spices.

Kíli sat at the head of a company around the fire. He told a grand tale about the Blue Mountains and a hunt they had once ventured on, that had gone completely wrong and somehow ended up in a brawl. He laughed aplenty and his wild gestures - backed up by Fíli's grins - brought the story to life.

Thorin was tired of giving Bilbo so much leeway and sitting in on the side - where he only would only get more frustrated - and had at one point pushed himself in between Dwalin and Gloin to sit opposite the youngest dwarf.

It was perhaps one of his best days since finding out about Kíli's tumbles.

That could also be because he now openly obstructed any and all courtships around Kíli. Apart from Fíli, he let no one come close - not without forcing himself into the conversation too. As Bilbo was often part of the group that consisted of himself, Fíli and Kíli, well, Bilbo had become even more fidgety.

Fíli wasn't seated at the camp fire though. Nor was Bilbo. Thorin frowned. As soon as Kíli ended his story, he stood up and excused himself.

Kíli was laughing mirthfully, in the middle of being shoved for a remark he had made laughing, when he saw Thorin get up.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Just a stroll. I thought it impossible, but I actually believe I had too much food. I won't be long," he smiled amiably.

"Nonsense," chimed in Bombur, who was instantly pushed out of the conversation again, "There is no such thing as too much food."

"I did say I thought it was impossible."

"May I join you?"

Not initially what he was aiming for, but why not? He nodded. 

Kíli sprang up instantly and fell in line. From time to time Thorin thought he felt Kíli lean a little toward him, but he easily moved away at moments like that and tried not to take note of Kíli quieting after.

"Where's Fíli?" he asked when they had walked for a while. The distance behind them was specked with a single fire and rambunctious noise that started to fade now. "I haven't seen him when we ate."

"It's his turn to guard the ponies."

"By himself?" Thorin wondered aloud. "You usually stand guard together."

"Bilbo offered him his company. He said it would do him good to get some fresh air and some quietude. He doesn't say, but he misses the peace of his home greatly."

The older of the two turned to look at Kíli. Kíli looked wistful, sad for the hobbit. He had never looked more beautiful, thought Thorin, who wanted nothing more than pull him close, kiss him, claim him for his own. 

But those were stories for the mind. Not for a reality where Kíli wanted someone else.

"Thorin?"

He was caught staring. Thorin snapped out of it. They walked further in quiet unison. It was a bright and pleasant night. The moon lit the tall grass around them, amidst the specks of stars in the indigo sky. Somehow, all was peaceful in a world of its own. When they had retaken Erebor, he had to come back here one day and truly give himself the time to enjoy it.

"Bilbo means a lot to you," spoke he.

Kíli laughed. "What's this, you're here to give me your blessing?"

And along came a painful silence.

"... Kíli," whispered Thorin.

Kíli's throat was dry. He stared. "I guessed true."

There were greater challenges in the world, but right now Thorin couldn't think of any. He put his hands in his pockets and tried very hard to subdue the tremble in his chest. It would not do to let his agony be heard. He stubbornly pulled himself together.

"If it's him you want, I could think of no worthier person."

Kíli stared incredulously.

He didn't smile. He didn't look relieved. Nor was he happy.

Something was terribly wrong here.

"You think it's Bilbo I want?" whispered Kíli. His next words quickly rose in crescendo. "Do you? Tell me true Thorin! You haven't been able to stop thinking about what I did when you were on your quest at all, have you?"

"Isn't it?" came the angry bite.

"Tell me true!"

"It's all I think about!" roared Thorin at last. "I know I've no right. You're a grown dwarf. I can no longer tell you what to do anymore, Kíli. I'm tired of thinking about it! Do you want him? Then have him!"

Kíli stepped back. His eyes glistened wetly in the pale light of moon.

"The proud king under the mountain stands before me," he smiled sadly, "And yet he knows nothing of the world outside the halls of yore. Right now I wish it were Bilbo." Kíli sat down in the grass. He turned his back towards him. "Can you leave? I wish to be alone." 

It didn't happen often that Thorin was dismissed and accepted it without complaint. Distraught as he was, and confused over the strange reception of his truly well-intended offer, he stepped back, paused, and started walking away. He wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do, but right now he didn't know what to do to begin with. Blades of grass parted at his side as he waded back to the camp.

When he looked over his shoulder, Kíli sat hunched and almost completely hidden in the sea of green reeds. It hurt to see him like that. Thorin steeled himself. He didn't want to break more things than he just had.

When he returned to camp, he sat down at a distance.

Gandalf looked up, hummed to himself, and sat down next to him without invitation. Apparently he took no notice of Thorin's distress, for he muttered contently, "Where did you leave Kíli?"

Thorin made no reply, and ten long, slow minutes passed.

Then he got up.

"Well, going already? Where are you off to, master dwarf?" the wizard wondered with curiosity.

"I'm sorry, Gandalf. I will tell you later."

Thorin padded his way back to the fields.

*********

Once he was well and surely out of eyesight and earshot from the camp, he relaxed. A small ferret shuffled around his feet, causing him to nearly trip, and he followed the creature until it was off before he scanned the horizon again. Trees muddled his sight. He cursed the grasslands for not being more navigable. Everywhere he saw it looked the same. It was nigh on impossible to find his way back. Thorin was no wilderness tracker.

Just when he was about to give up, take his blade in hand and cut down all of it in anger, a soft voice drifted toward him.

Kíli's wobbling silhouette stood a little further away, left of him, his features obscured by the weak light above them.

"Thorin?"

"Kíli!" called Thorin. Thank the gods. He waded closer through the grass. "Hold on."

Kíli made no move to walk, but he didn't move away either. When they stood opposite each other, he muttered, "Yes?"

"I have a question," said Thorin.

"I have thousands," spoke Kíli. "Forgive me if I don't sound surprised."

He stood on feet unsteadily and his voice was broken. Only now could Thorin see the look on his face.

He cursed himself a thousand times over for ever leaving him alone in the fields.

"You said you wanted it to be Bilbo."

"Ah." Disappointment. "Bilbo again."

If it's not him, then who?"

Kíli's sad smile bittered. He looked up. "Only the greatest fool that ever was, Thorin. And yet I'm a fool worse than he. Get some rest. He will not take me away."

Thorin crushed his lips against Kíli's.

"Then he's not worthy of you," he breathed, Kíli's face cupped in his hands.

Kíli, for his part, was entirely out of sorts. He stared up confused - not frowning, thank goodness he wasn't frowning - and parted his lips, closed them, and only then could he breathe out, "No. He's not."

If the dwarf prince could have read that as a rejection, Kíli gave him no chance to pull back. There was an urgency in the way he tore Thorin close for a kiss by the furs on his coat that told the older enough. Kíli didn't seem to think this was real. He clutched at him to hold him close like he didn't want to give him even one moment to reconsider. Thorin was fine with that. The feeling was entirely mutual.

There were enough days of travel ahead to figure out the things that took time.

The tree stump that Thorin eventually pushed Kíli against was pathetic. The nearest actual tree was too far away though, and the need to push him against something and fumble at his clothes too great to withstand for long enough. Bark chipped at the impact. Perhaps the muted crack of dead wood was their fault as well. Kíli raised himself up on the stump with two hands, then stared down at him with dilated pupils and already swollen lips.

However fast he had become so wretched, Thorin couldn't tear his eyes away from him.

Kíli looked like he wanted to say something. He refrained from it. Instead he challenged the other to stake his claim. Whatever beauty lay in the moonshine, he made it look primal.

"I want you so badly," groaned Thorin. He still didn't think this was real and thought he saw part of that reflected in Kíli, though in that case Kíli did cover it up masterfully.

The younger laughed breathily at that. "Bilbo. Really?" he mused.

Kíli was clearly aiming for effect, because the fierce possessiveness that took a hold of Thorin at those words surged him forward and flush against Kíli, who clung to his travel cloak and tore it off as properly as he could. "Who else did you think, Thorin?" did he whisper in his ears. "Were there many?"

Thorin roughly pulled him off the tree trunk and into the grass on top of him. Without a moment's respite he rolled them around and all but pinned the lithe smaller body down into the grass. Their eyes met. Kíli's were wonderfully full of pleasure and bore a spark of something else. Thorin knew that his own were most likely still as dark as anger had the ability to make them. "Wretched creature," he hissed, and was pulled down for another deep kiss.

He didn't know how it came to pass - most likely all of this could be attributed to Kíli's frantic squirming - but when his fingertips brushed over warm skin at Kíli's sides, they paused and stared at each other. With everything that had moved them up to here, this was the single delicate point where everything could still fall apart. Thorin had given Kíli hell for bedding a man, after all.

"... Go on," Kíli quietly urged. His eyes shone so ethereally hopeful in the blue-lit grass around them.

It was beautiful.

Thorin groaned and tore off the shirt and everything else that was within his reach with renewed vigour until the garments stuck and Kíli helped removing them. He did the same to his own attire until they were both breathlessly and wonderfully naked. 

Kíli carefully wrapped his legs up until they hooked around Thorin's waist. He held them there when the oldest of the two moved to unlatch them to turn Kíli around. Kíli shook his head.

That is where started Thorin Oakenshield's demise.

*********

If he looked back on it later, his memory would pick out the way that Kíli's hands grasped at his shoulders in the height of his throes. They probably still bore the marks. He would feel the way his own body betrayed him and how he had shoved Kíli further and further up on the bed of grass, wanting to go deeper and harder and needing more, more, so much more, until first Kíli stifled his cries and then Thorin did cry out deeply.

Little of the roughness that had featured so frequently in his imaginations had in the end actually come to pass. But then, he would have felt guilty if they had. Things between them were frail. There was a time and place for everything.

Maybe Thorin would remember the way Kíli's hair stuck to his face afterward when they laid in the grass opposite each other. How the man had laughed bashfully - the complete opposite of his behaviour during sex - and tried to get his unruly hair out of his face before Thorin had reached out to stop him.

He would certainly remember the utterly spent, intoxicated look that the unbraided hairs framed.

*********

Their journey was to lead to Erebor, the Lonely Mountain pale on the horizon. It was still a day's ride on horseback before the forest would dim that sight from their vision. Already dwarves were busy preparing for the Mirkwood. They filled waterskins by streams and stocked up on whatever they could carry off the backs of ponies.

Kíli and Fíli sat a little further off and talked about whatever it was that they were whispering. Thorin had little misdirection that most of it was about him, if Kíli's fleeting gazes and consequent shying away, and Fíli's laughs at that, were anything to go by. 

He smiled once when Kíli looked his way and then continued strapping on his boots.

How the hobbit had suddenly found a seat next to him without his notice, he did wonder.

"So," the halfling said resolutely with a nod of his head. Then kept quiet.

"Master Bilbo. Kíli has been talking about me, hasn't he?"

"Well. Yes. About that."

Thorin raised an eyebrow at the hobbit. "Is there something on your mind, master hobbit?"

Bilbo apparently still didn't take well to being put on the spot. He fidgeted with his hands and looked everywhere but at the dwarf prince. Eventually he just blurted out, "I'm sorry. I'm afraid Fíli and I haven't been entirely honest with you, sir."

He withered under the full attention that was now his due.

"You see. It was Fíli's idea, really. I just, you know," he waved with his hand, "played along. I didn't mean anything by it."

"Kíli told me later you weren't interested in him, Bilbo," Thorin put him out of his misery. Though it was comical to see, he had to admit. If Gandalf hadn't been eyeing them, he might have held up the charade a little longer. "Unlike his brother and you, he doesn't like tricking people. You could stand to learn something from him."

"Oh. I mean, good. Good!"

"He didn't quite tell me how he knew though. He did say 'it was obvious'. How was it obvious? I myself failed to see it. I must apologise if I mistreated you. I'm afraid I've been angry at you many a night for naught."

Bilbo paled.

Thorin actually wasn't messing with him this time and did expect an explanation.

"Well, about that..." he started.

Kíli and Fíli called him over.

"Sorry, gotta go!" Bilbo piped up and made off even as Thorin called after him, "Wait! You haven't given me an answer!"

*********

Thorin gave Fíli hell for what he found when he and Kíli stumbled into the clearing together that night, lips and hands all over each other, and found him and a certain hobbit - "guarding ponies" - caught in headlights.

"Brother!" Kíli had laughed, "Congratulations! At long last!"

Thorin had turned to him darkly, giving Fíli and Bilbo the chance to scramble together their clothing and flee the scene as quick as they could. 

"You knew?"

Kíli had begged and begged for more that night, bent over forward with his elbows digging into the dirt and his panting ragged as Thorin subjected him to a lifetime of pent up frustrations.

When they entered Mirkwood at long last, Kíli winced with every step and the dwarf prince's heart positively thrummed with infatuation.

Thorin Oakenshield was a wanderer no more.


End file.
